


Ghostly Interference

by celtic7irish



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Ghost! Rhodey, Kidnapping, Obadiah is still the bad guy, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is not Iron Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 09:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21443803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: Tony is kidnapped after leaving a military charity gala early.  He'll rescue his own damn self, thank you very much.  Though a little ghostly help might not go amiss.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26
Collections: Tony Stark Flash Bingo





	1. Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tony Stark Flash Bingo, Card #7.  
Prompts:   
S7 -Yellow, T7 - James "Rhodey" Rhodes, A7 - Kidnapping, R7 - Scarf, K7 - Haunted
> 
> Each chapter is labeled according to the square it fills.

Tony grit his teeth and smiled politely - or at least grimaced somewhat politely - at the man standing in front of him, his self-important boasting barely pretending to be an actual conversation. As per usual with Justin Hammer, the man was dressed in poor taste, black pants and a bright yellow vest and suit jacket that gave Tony a migraine just looking at it. Everything about him screamed ‘Look at me’ and Tony wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away in the opposite direction, to anywhere that Justin wasn’t.

Unfortunately, this whole event was being run by Justin Hammer, and there was no escape from the man. Or the color yellow. Yellow tablecloths, yellow chairs, yellow flowers in yellow vases, yellow banners and streamers and decorations. Tony was surprised that the walls weren’t yellow, though the white wasn’t much better, in the grand scheme of things.

Honestly, the only reason Tony was here at all was that this function was meant to be held in support of US Troops overseas - hence the overwhelming yellow of the place - and as a weapons maker, Tony Stark’s presence was practically a  _ requirement _ . He’d tried to convince Obie that the Maria Stark Foundation could hold a charity event that would bring in significantly more donations, but the older man had just smiled at him indulgently and informed him that there was no need to hold  _ two _ events, when one would do just fine. It was all about the PR, after all. Tony had been far too busy on his newest project to argue.

“Mister Stark?” a voice spoke up from behind him, and Tony took the opportunity it presented to turn his back on Justin Hammer mid-speech, press smile already in place as he faced the newcomer.

The redheaded woman was rather stunning, dressed in a tasteful black dress that dipped almost scandalously low at the chest and was slit just on the verge of inappropriate up the sides, showing off shapely legs. A yellow ribbon was pinned to her dress like a broach, and Tony’s smile shifted into something more heated. “May I help you?” he asked, well aware that Justin was still standing there behind him, undoubtedly fuming about Tony’s dismissal.

The redhead smiled coyly back at him, wrapping both of her hands around Tony’s arms and pulling him subtly away from their unwanted host. “I’m sure you can, Mister Stark,” she purred. “Natalie Rushman. We spoke over the phone?”

Tony relaxed a bit. Natalie worked in SI’s legal department, and when Pepper had noticed some discrepancies in the books and brought them to Tony’s attention, Natalie had been put in charge of the internal investigation, navigating the system with an ease that Tony could almost envy.

“Yes,” he agreed as they stepped outside, the fresh air helping to clear his head. He lifted one of his companion’s hands and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. “If I had known you were this stunning, I would’ve visited legal sooner,” he offered.

Natalie laughed. “You should be more careful, Mister Stark,” she warned, “or I might be inclined to misconstrue innocent flattery as sexual harassment.” Tony inclined his head; warning noted and acknowledged. 

“What can I do for you, Miss Rushman?” he wondered. “Since you so neatly extricated me from having to listen to Hammer for one more second, you’ve earned five minutes of my time. Go.”

Natalie was not only pretty; she was prepared. Tony had no idea where the file had been hiding in such a sheer dress, but as Natalie presented it to him, Tony had to admire her efficiency.

He flipped open the folder, his eyes skimming over the top sheet, and then starting again from the top, slower this time, his face paling as what he was reading really sunk in. When Pepper had brought the discrepancies to his attention, Tony had suspected that it was an inside job. Shipments going missing? Altered invoices? SI’s cyber security department was top notch, and the company provided its employees with an excellent benefits package to encourage loyalty, but there still existed people who could be bought.

But this was so much worse than a disgruntled employee selling SI secrets to a competitor. This came from higher up, from somebody who could manipulate the books, who could hide missing or diverted shipments among the other business dealings. When you were shipping hundreds of thousands of weapons a year, it was practically a given that some of them would go missing. But these didn’t just go missing; they were intentionally diverted. And other than Tony, there was only one other person with that level of access.

“Obie,” Tony breathed the name like a curse, Remembering that he had an audience - he couldn’t fall apart yet - Tony glanced up at Natalie, who was watching him carefully. “Thank you, Miss Rushman,” he said. “I will take it from here.”

Natalie frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mr. Stark,” she said softly. “There are steps we can take, reports we can file. I can help with that. Whatever you need,” she promised.

Tony’s smile was sharp, brittle. “What I need,” he said, “is your silence. I will take care of this. It’s my responsibility. I should have noticed.” He looked at the redhead intently. “Do I have your word that you will keep what you’ve found here between us?” he asked, knowing that if she refused, there was fuck-all he could do about it.

Natalie considered him for a long moment, though Tony hardly noticed, his mind already racing through his next steps, considering and discarding options just as quickly.

“Very well,” Natalie agreed. “While I cannot in good conscience allow this to unaddressed, I suppose I can put off submitting my findings officially for a few days.”

Tony smiled. “That’s fair,” he admitted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s about time Obie and I had a talk.”

As he walked away, ignoring Natalie’s dubious look at his back, Tony plucked the yellow rose out of his lapel, handing it to Happy when his driver opened the car door for him.

“Home, Happy,” he ordered, already pulling out his phone.

Obie owed him an explanation.


	2. Kidnapping

Tony wished he could say that waking up in an unfamiliar place with a splitting headache and aching ribs was a rare occurrence, but it really wasn’t. Still, he thought with a grimace, staring blearily at a wall covered in fading wallpaper that was possibly the ugliest shade of brown he’d ever seen, it seemed really unfair that he couldn’t even blame this particular instance on the overindulgence of alcohol or drugs or sex. Hell, he couldn’t even blame it on a caffeine-fueled engineering binge.

“So I’m guessing you know who I am,” he said, speaking clearly even as the sound of his own voice sent bolts of agony through his brain. He wasn’t awake enough for this. “Which means you also know that whatever it is you want, I won’t do it. And if you’re looking for a ransom, well, that won’t happen, either.” He might as well get everything out there right now. Maybe they’d just kill him and end his agony. If he had to stare at the ugly wallpaper for five more minutes, he was going to do something drastic.

There was no answer, and Tony sighed, slumping forward in his seat, trying to force his brain into some sort of coherency. He needed a plan, and maybe tools or a weapon. Something. But all he could see, other than the walls, was the stupid plastic chair - a bright, cheerful blue that clashed horribly with the worn pink carpeting - and four walls. There was a door over on the far side, but Tony was pretty sure it was locked. Other than that, he had the clothes he’d been wearing when he’d been knocked out and kidnapped, and not much else. 

His wrists were cuffed behind his back, pulling uncomfortably at his shoulders where the cuffs were linked to each other, and then linked further to another chain that led to a bolt in the floor, pulled taut and leaving him no leverage, just enough give that his back wasn’t curved awkwardly.

Slowly, the memories were coming back to him, and Tony muttered a curse as he remembered the events preceding his apparent kidnapping.

He’d called Obie to demand an accounting after Natalie Rushman had presented him with solid evidence of years’ worth of doctoring books and selling Stark Industries weapons to the highest bidder to line his own pockets. The older man had been more of a father to him than his own ever had, and he’d been dealing behind Tony’s back for _ years _. And Tony hadn’t been paying attention, content with his tinkering and his playboy lifestyle.

Obie had sounded surprised on the phone, but had agreed to meet with Tony despite the late hour. Tony...had never arrived.

Tony didn’t remember much about the accident, but he suspected that it hadn’t been an accident at all, given his current predicament. He wondered what had happened to Happy. If his chauffeur and friend had been hurt, there was going to be hell to pay.

But then that left the question: who knew that Tony would be there at that exact time? He’d left Hammer’s little soiree early, and other than Happy and Natalie, the only other one who knew he’d left was Obie.

His hand clenched into fist. Obadiah. Had he betrayed Tony? What did he hope to gain? If nothing else, Tony was famous; his disappearance would surely be noticed. Or was he just trying to buy himself some time? To run? Or hide whatever paper trails might have not yet been discovered?

“Okay,” he muttered, then again, louder. “Okay. So either I’m way off the mark here, or you just don’t want to talk to me yet. Rude.” He had managed to twist his wrists enough to slip his finger along the metal, testing for stress points. He couldn’t reach the lockpicks he kept sewn into his clothing. It was starting to look like he’d have to wait until his kidnappers tried to move him or something before he’d have a chance to escape. Ugh. Boring. 

In the meantime, Tony put that brilliant mind of his to work. When he got the chance, his kidnappers would never see him coming.


	3. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost! Rhodey makes an appearance

The lights flickered for the third time in an hour, and Tony grumbled. He had no idea how long he’d been handcuffed to this chair, there weren’t exactly any convenient windows or clocks in the room. The overhead lights had come on a short while ago, nearly blinding Tony, but there had been nothing since, and he was starting to wonder if his kidnappers had forgotten that they had  _ actually kidnapped _ someone.

Wondering if they were hoping that isolation would break him - it wouldn’t, it would just make him really, really annoyed - Tony had taken to insulting his kidnappers in every language in his arsenal. And making up a few new ones. And when he’d grown bored of that, he’d started singing loudly and off-key, random snatches and refrains of songs.

But his throat had eventually gone hoarse, and since nobody had bothered to bring him water, Tony had eventually quieted down. Still nothing. And now he had to pee, and the damn lights were flickering, giving him a headache.

“Look, guys, I can’t tell you to piss off if you don’t tell me what you want,” he grouched, his voice a bit rough. “My legs are asleep, I have to pee, and I don’t know about you, but I could really use a stiff drink.

The lights flickered again, and Tony tipped his head back to glare up at the offending bulb. “Okay, seriously?” he demanded. “Unless this place is haunted and everybody got eaten by a very unfriendly ghost, this is just ridiculous.”

He tugged uselessly at his arms again - his wrists were chafed raw, and he was pretty sure a few spots were bleeding at this point - and paused. Cautiously, he tried again, testing. The left cuff felt loose. Not loose enough, not yet, but definitely not as tight as it had been. He could...he could work with that.

Not bothering to hide his movements - he had yet to see his kidnappers, and he hadn’t spotted any cameras from his earlier examination - Tony leaned forward as much as he could and pulled, wincing as his already raw wrists scraped against the metal restraints. “Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed.

The lights flickered again, and maybe it was just Tony’s imagination, but he was pretty sure he felt the cuffs give just a little bit more. Tucking his thumb in, Tony braced himself and pulled. Hard. His hand finally slipped through the cuff, and he took a minute to cradle it in his lap and blink back the tears that threatened to spill. Fuck, that had hurt.

Carefully, he tested the movement in his hand, then used his now free hand to scrabble around for his lockpick set, even as he twisted around and dropped to the floor, wincing as his knees smacked against the tile floor. Carefully, he rotated his wrist in the remaining cuff, biting his lip until he had it turned around more comfortably. Lockpick in hand, he got to work. The light flickered again, and Tony rolled his eyes, muttering complaints to himself as he worked.

“Seriously, though, what sort of villain goes through all that effort to kidnap somebody, and then just leaves them alone, unsupervised? Where are the demands? The threats? The elaborate monologues?” Tony shivered as he finally got the cuffs unlocked from around his wrist, wincing as he staggered to his feet, putting the lockpicks away but leaving the handcuffs. While they might prove useful, they were still hooked to the floor by another chain, and he didn’t want to take the time to try and sort that out.

Free, Tony started exploring the small room he was in, starting with the door. Unfortunately, the bad guys hadn’t been stupid enough to leave it unlocked, and there was no lock on this side of the door for him to pick. His best guess was that it was barred from the outside somehow. Still, that didn’t mean the door was entirely secure.

Scowling, Tony pulled out a multi-tool - seriously, did they not check  _ anything?! _ \- and started working on freeing the pins from the door hinges. He’d be out of here in no time.

His arms were aching from the stretch, but the single chair in the room was bolted to the floor, so he just grit his teeth and started talking again, just to fill the silence. “Either these guys are just that stupid, or they dumped my ass here and then abandoned me.”

“Or they were, y’know, murdered, for not following their client’s orders,” a deep, unfamiliar voice spoke up. From behind Tony.

With a sound that was definitely  _ not _ a scream, Tony whirled around, pressing his back to the door and staring wide-eyed at the man who was floating in the middle of the room. The man smiled, white teeth a startling contrast to his dark skin. “What? You act like you’ve never seen a ghost before.”

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t,” Tony informed him weakly. Leave it to a bunch of incompetent kidnappers to leave his ass in a  _ haunted house _ . He was going to give these guys such a bad review. Then he realized what the man had said. “Wait. Killed?” he asked.

The ghost shrugged. “That’s what I said,” he agreed amenably. He tilted his head to the side, and Tony had the crazy thought that it was such a  _ human _ thing for a ghost to do. “You somebody important or somethin’?” he asked.

Tony’s laugh was only slightly hysterical. “Or something,” he agreed. Then, figuring he might as well not piss off Casper there, he held out his hand. “The name’s Tony Stark.”

The ghost reached out and brushed through his hand, sending a jolt of cold through Tony’s arm and down his spine. “Nice to meet you, Tony,” he replied. “Colonel James Rhodes, Air Force.”

Tony smiled weakly. A ghost soldier, even. Great.


	4. James "Rhodey" Rhodes

Tony stared in dismay at the monitor in front of him, not liking what he was seeing. It had taken some digging deep into SI’s computer systems to find the irrevocable proof he needed to bring Obie down. Howard had often been called a War Monger, but his interest had always lay in keeping his countrymen safe. Obie had...Tony didn’t have words for it. He had perpetuated war, selling weapons to terrorists and rebels and militaries equally, as long as they could line his pockets.

Not for the first time, Tony felt a sharp pang of guilt and recrimination in his chest. So many lives lost needlessly, and for what? So Stark Industries could build itself on the corpses of US citizens. While Tony wasn’t sure how many American lives had been lost thanks to his inattention and Obie’s underhanded dealings, he knew of one, at the very least.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the entity hovering just behind him, glaring at the screen over his shoulder. One of his weapons - a missile powerful enough to destroy an entire mountain - had taken out the convoy that James had been in, killing everybody. James didn’t know why he was the only one who’d come back as a ghost, or how he’d ended up in the exact place where Tony had been brought after his kidnappers had realized just who they’d been ordered to kill. And yes, they’d been ordered to make sure he was dead. They’d thought he was worth more alive than dead, and had changed the plan. And paid for it with their lives.

“Not your fault, Tony,” James repeated, as he’d done so many times since he’d learned just who Tony was and what he’d been trying to do before he’d been unceremoniously kidnapped. “You didn’t know.”

“But I should have,” Tony argued. Again. “This is my company. Tony Stark of Stark Industries.” He was shaking, and he wrapped his arms around himself, as if he could hold himself together, keep himself from shaking apart for just a bit longer. He knew what he needed to do, and he’d already put Pepper and Natalie on it. Obie would be arrested. There would be a press conference. Stark Industries was getting out of the weapons business, effective immediately. He was working with the US military and various alphabet-letter organizations to organize location and retrieval of as many Stark Industries weapons as possible. And hadn’t that been an unpleasant surprise, learning that Natalie Rushman was secretly a spy for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division (also known as SHIELD), and had been sent to work for Stark Industries in an attempt to determine just who, exactly, was selling weapons on the black market?

“You said it yourself,” James shrugged. “You’re an engineer, and a futurist. You take what’s already there and make it  _ better _ . And you know now,” he pointed out reasonably. “And you’re doin’ everything you can to fix it, yeah?”

Tony nodded miserably. “But it’s not enough,” he admitted. “You’re still dead, aren’t you?” And that was another depressing thought. Colonel James Rhodes was amazing. He wasn’t quite as smart as Tony, but he was still very intelligent. And he’d been an engineer, too. If the two of them had met before James’ death, Tony was positive that the guy would’ve become his best friend. Instead, he was a forty-year-old ghost. And Tony’s weapons had killed him.

James considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, fair,” he agreed. “But I’ll make you a deal. When this is over, and you get this asshole, go visit my mama. She’ll probably cry. And my sisters will probably try and embarrass you.”

Tony frowned. What did visiting James’ mother have to do with anything? And then he realized that James was giving him a chance to make amends for his death to his parents. Tony swore right then and there that the Rhodes would never want for anything, ever again.

“Mama Rhodes?” he asked.

James grinned. “Yeah. She’ll like you,” he predicted. “Mama always said I should bring more friends around.”

Tony felt a warmth of pleasure at James’ words. He’d only known the ghost for a week now, but he felt like he’d known him forever. Maybe they’d been friends in another life, if one believed in such things.

The screen lit up with another hit, and James grinned. “But first, let’s catch the bad guy,” he said. “Looks like the guy is trying to cover his tracks.”

Tony’s smile was fierce as together, the two of them got back to work.


	5. Scarf

Tony shivered, wrapping the scarf that James’ mom had made him tighter around his throat and huddling down into his oversized coat. Roberta Rhodes had taken one look at Tony when he’d gone to personally apologize to her for her son’s death, and had promptly dragged him inside and fed him beef stew, much to James’ amusement. And while Mama Rhodes wasn’t really the superstitious sort, she’d quickly realized that there was no reason for Tony to have ever known who her son was, and she’d demanded an explanation. When Tony had admitted, shamefaced, that he was sort of being haunted by her son’s ghost, the kindly matron had broken down into tears, leaving Tony with the awkward task of calming her down and then spending the afternoon playing mediator between a ghost and his mom. Tony was just glad James’ sisters weren’t there at the time, being away at college.

After that first meeting, Tony made it a point to visit the Rhodes’ home at least once a month (more if he could manage it), where the family spoke to him and James equally. Tony never felt unwelcome there, or like they were only tolerating him because he could talk to James. And then Mama Rhodes had knit Tony a scarf for Christmas - a bright red and gold thing - and Tony had nearly cried himself. He was pretty that James’ family was how family was  _ supposed _ to look like.

“You sure you didn’t want to spend the day at your mom’s place?” Tony asked. James didn’t  _ have _ to stick around him - and sometimes didn’t - but so far, Tony had proven to be the only one who could see him. And he might’ve thought he was going crazy, but James would drop little tidbits about himself and his family that Tony couldn’t have made up if he’d tried. Apparently James had also gone to MIT; he’d only been two years ahead of Tony. Tony mourned the lost opportunity to have met him while he was still alive. Of course, if they’d known each other, Tony probably would’ve been the one doing to the Jericho weapons demonstration in Afghanistan instead of Tiberius, who had returned with a very lucrative deal from the United States Armed Forces, and had somehow neglected to mention the death of an entire convoy of soldiers.

“Nah. She’s gonna be busy into the New Year,” James told him. “No point in my hanging around and bein’ an annoyance.” What James meant was that he had a tendency to make rooms cooler and lights flicker whenever he was present. It let his mom and sisters know he was around, but James had a huge extended family, and none of them were aware that he was, technically, still hanging around New York. It was better for their peace of mind to think he was dead and in a better place now.

Tony had taken off one of his gloves to pet the soft material of the scarf. It wasn’t cashmere, but it was soft and comfortable and  _ warm _ . “It looks good on you,” James said softly.

Tony smiled. “Thanks,” he said, his face flushed with happiness. Then, shyly, he glanced over at his companion. “Merry Christmas, James,” he offered.

James grinned back.

“Merry Christmas, Tony.”


End file.
